boat notes 24/12 -
Morning. It's day but not yet 'sunrise' because of the cliffs. There's this one boat and I want it to go away, its engine pointing on my morning. A sea hawk is whistling and circling over my head, steering in tight circles with its tail and its wing tips. At the kayak station, flat yellow and green house on a barge, kids or tourists playing hackey-sack in silhouette. I woke in the night with relationship panic...
c'mon, c'mon, calls a raven in a cliff echo. Reveal your nest - reveal your nest -
We're moving, we're out of the cove now, sun's warming things up. A couple bail their fishing boat, and N gets his flash out. It's a tour, we're on a tour. Oil emulsifies near the rocks. Scrub on the cliff-sides. Dark grey planes with cream streaming and planing through it. Sun's gone, suddenly freezing. Children swimming to school because their family can afford no boat. How do you survive in a floating fishing village with no boat? Sudden cold winds. Boat hands without boats. Sometimes teachers pick up the kids in their boats and take them to school.
On the piers ladies sell pearls, fake pearls? Smartly dressed, urgent. I lie back in the sun above a city of boats, hat on, wrap pulled around me. A boat above a city of boats.
-
Tiny one-room concrete house, beside a busy freeway on the way to a wonder of the world. Aqua like houses in Patea. In the front garden a large grove of cake-tiered topiaries.
Wedding couple both in white on a blanket in a pine forest, wedding photos by the freeway.
In a town a mamma sits on a broken pavement next to her scooter, helmet on, large sleeping boy of 8 or 9 laid out on her lap, cuddled in.
Mamma in an ornate hat, standing behind daughter on daughter's bicycle, holding on, daughter is smiling.
Sister behind sister on a scooter, wrapping facemask around front-sister's ears.
And hand-ploughs.
Morning. It's day but not yet 'sunrise' because of the cliffs. There's this one boat and I want it to go away, its engine pointing on my morning. A sea hawk is whistling and circling over my head, steering in tight circles with its tail and its wing tips. At the kayak station, flat yellow and green house on a barge, kids or tourists playing hackey-sack in silhouette. I woke in the night with relationship panic...
c'mon, c'mon, calls a raven in a cliff echo. Reveal your nest - reveal your nest -
We're moving, we're out of the cove now, sun's warming things up. A couple bail their fishing boat, and N gets his flash out. It's a tour, we're on a tour. Oil emulsifies near the rocks. Scrub on the cliff-sides. Dark grey planes with cream streaming and planing through it. Sun's gone, suddenly freezing. Children swimming to school because their family can afford no boat. How do you survive in a floating fishing village with no boat? Sudden cold winds. Boat hands without boats. Sometimes teachers pick up the kids in their boats and take them to school.
On the piers ladies sell pearls, fake pearls? Smartly dressed, urgent. I lie back in the sun above a city of boats, hat on, wrap pulled around me. A boat above a city of boats.
-
Tiny one-room concrete house, beside a busy freeway on the way to a wonder of the world. Aqua like houses in Patea. In the front garden a large grove of cake-tiered topiaries.
Wedding couple both in white on a blanket in a pine forest, wedding photos by the freeway.
In a town a mamma sits on a broken pavement next to her scooter, helmet on, large sleeping boy of 8 or 9 laid out on her lap, cuddled in.
Mamma in an ornate hat, standing behind daughter on daughter's bicycle, holding on, daughter is smiling.
Sister behind sister on a scooter, wrapping facemask around front-sister's ears.
And hand-ploughs.
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